


Wicked Game

by FannyT



Series: The Hunger Games Fusion Verse [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: 20th Hunger Games, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-29 03:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16255754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannyT/pseuds/FannyT
Summary: The twentieth Hunger Games is a Panem milestone Glinda hoped she wouldn't have to be a part of. When she gets reaped as the tribute for District One, the only thing on her mind is putting together an alliance, making herself stand out from the crowd and just focusing on making it through.It would be great if Elphaba Thropp from District Five could stop putting wrenches in all her plans.





	1. The Way You're Viewed

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I've made the choice to put all my favourite characters into the Hunger Games verse and make myself sad. This fic's been gathering dust in my virtual drawer for a while; thanks as always to Redorchid for betaing and cheerleading me through it. 
> 
> General Hunger Games warnings apply: canon-typical violence and character death.

_The world was on fire and no one could save me but you._ — Chris Isaak, Wicked Game

**ACT ONE**

Caelius Trifle, the Capitol representative for District One, pulled a piece of paper out of the bowl of girl tributes and squinted at the name through his glasses, tinted the same shade of rose pink as the rest of his outfit. He cleared his throat.

"Ger—Gar—Galinda Upland!" 

With the way he had garbled her name, it took Galinda several seconds to realise it had finally happened. The moment she had feared for the last five years was here. 

She'd always known it might happen one day. In her district, you grew up preparing—you weren't supposed to, of course, but the Capitol never seemed to enforce that particular rule. As soon as you were of Reaping age, you started training after school or work, and you always knew that it might be you one day. There was no escaping it. But no matter how much the trainers talked about the Arena and combat and, lately, the cameras, there was still a world of difference between that intellectual knowledge and the actual gut-punching dread of hearing your own name being called. 

She was seventeen years old. One more year and she might have been spared. And she still hoped that the Games would be abolished after this year’s 20th anniversary; it seemed like a fitting end, and surely by now the Capitol felt like they'd made their point. 

Galinda took a deep breath and walked forward. She was not going to look back at her mom and dad. If she did, she might not be able to go on.

As the crowd parted for her, Galinda saw the way Caelius looked her up and down, eyes widening. Galinda recognised the expression. She knew she was pretty. She'd stood out in her class from the age of fourteen, and these days she turned heads wherever she went.

With a flash, she realised she could use that. 

She breathed out, rolling her shoulders back to relieve the tension, then stepped lightly on to the stage, walking on the balls of her feet and trying to make the movement as graceful as possible. 

"Galinda Upland," Caelius repeated, managing her name a little better this time, but still hesitating over how to pronounce the first syllable. She gave him her most brilliant smile. 

"You know, you can just call me Glinda," she said. 

She could sense his confusion. Tributes never usually spoke much, and hardly ever directly to the Capitol representative. 

Galinda—well, she was Glinda now, she supposed, and it was best to get used to it—tossed her hair back over her shoulder, turning her head to look directly into the nearest camera and batting her eyelashes. 

"That's Glinda of District One," she said, and giggled. "This is exciting! I will do my very _bestest_ to make my mark in these Games, and to make my District proud. Please give me your support!"

There was a stunned silence. It was actually some time before Caelius remembered that he was supposed to call a boy's name as well. But Glinda just kept smiling, even when the camera reluctantly left her to find her fellow tribute. 

She was going to make sure she was remembered.

* * *

For the Tribute Parade, they dressed Glinda in sunshine yellow and gold. Her district partner, Avaric—a boy who she vaguely recalled from sword training lessons—was clad in silver, and he stared balefully at her as they climbed onto their chariot. 

“They’re making clear who the favourite is, aren’t they?” he said. 

Glinda only smiled. There were Capitol people around them even here, after all, milling around, fixing their hair and clothes or just staring. She was going to be sweet, and gorgeous, and just a little bit stupid. 

“Do you think so?” she asked, laughing lightly and stretching her arms out to either side. “I do love this dress; it’s so pretty and sparkly. The Capitol is wonderful, don’t you think? It’s all so _grand_!”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the stylists in her team squeeze his colleague’s arm, nodding at her. They both looked utterly taken with her. 

Avaric sneered, turning away with a disgusted expression. 

"Idiot," he muttered. 

If he meant to be insulting, he missed the mark. The more he and all the other tributes underestimated her, the better, really. 

She looked around at some of the other tributes. District One had it easy, she realised. With luxury items as primary export, they were never stuck with too awful costumes. Not like District Ten, who were dressed as animals—the girl a cow and the boy a goat, because the Capitol thought they were so funny. They were covered in fur, with horns and fake snout and all, and they both looked incredibly creepy. Then there was District Nine, with the boy encased in a haystack and the girl dressed as a particularly simpering sort of farm girl, District Eleven, clad in some kind of scarecrow outfits, and— 

Glinda forced herself not to wince. District Five was really pulling the short straw this year. The boy was dressed in a shining, twinkling sort of material which wasn't completely awful, but the girl was _green_ , her skin practically glowing. Some sort of reference to a power plant, probably. How cute. 

As Glinda stared, her gaze met the District Five girl’s, and Glinda realised how absolutely furious the girl was. Well. She wasn’t alone in that, was she? 

“Chariots heading out!” someone called, and Glinda turned back to face forward, smiling brightly. 

As the chariots headed out of the waiting area onto the course, the noise of thousands of screaming Capitol spectators exploded around them. There were the usual jeers and hisses, Capitol citizens spitting their disdain of the rebellious districts, but there were also whistles and cheers from those caring more about the current spectacle than the old war. 

District One usually enjoyed a lot of the more positive attention, and Glinda smiled and waved happily, clearly marking for everyone watching that she was receiving all the praise and none of the blame. Sure enough, as usual, the shouts of “One! One! One!” were most predominant amid the general roar. But under that, growing stronger as the parade progressed, Glinda heard something else, and elation soared through her. 

They were shouting her name.

* * *

Glinda’s mentor was the infamous Madam Morrible. She’d won fourteen years previous, making her way to the top three by manipulating the others in her alliance to kill each other, and then sticking a knife in the two remaining. She’d moved to the Capitol after her victory and seemed to have gone practically native, to the point of adopting their ridiculous hairstyles. Her current ‘do was truly gravity-defying, and it looked like it weighed a tonne. Anything to be the Capitol’s idea of pretty, Glinda supposed. 

“You, my dear,” Madam Morrible was saying, as Glinda removed barrettes and pins from her own hair after the parade, scattering glitter as she worked, “you may just have made my life significantly easier. I _love_ this little sweetums thing you’ve got going on, and it’s obvious the potential sponsors have already bought into it. We just need to keep adding coal to that fire.”

Glinda nodded. She found Madam rather intimidating—she’d not been part of their training, like other victors of District One, and there was something uncomfortably ruthless about her. At the same time, Glinda had watched enough Games to know that she was one of the best at working the media. None of the other mentors used the press coverage in quite the same way as Madam Morrible. Last year, she’d managed to persuade the entire Capitol that Crystal—a tiny, reedy girl Glinda knew for a fact suffered from chronic back pain, unable to lift anything heavier than a knife—was a master of combat so adept that she had no need for muscle-bound strength. That image had galvanised sponsors, intimidated other tributes to keep their distance and had in the end kept Crystal alive until day five, when a girl from District Six had finally decided to take her chances. 

Glinda could use that kind of media skill. She’d gotten pretty far on her own, but to manage the Capitol, she would need a more professional eye.

“What are your thoughts?” she asked. “I can keep being sweet, but I think I need something more than that.”

“Exactly,” Madam said, looking pleased—like Glinda had just performed a trick to her satisfaction. “You need to start being dangerous, too. We’ll make you the leader of the alliance—charming and pretty, but with a heart of steel underneath.” She looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, that will work nicely.”

“Won’t the other mentors mind?” 

Madam waved a hand, dismissive. “I’ve spoken to Chalcedony. Avaric is too sulky; not leadership material. And District Two won’t be thinking that far ahead yet. They always concentrate on a show of force first. If you head into training tomorrow expecting them to follow you, they’ll have no choice but to fall in line. This alliance we have with them is something everyone benefits from. They won’t want to jeopardise it.”

“How about inviting others into that alliance?” Glinda asked. “Last year, the Seven boy was included. Is it up to you, or can I make my own judgement?”

Madam raised an eyebrow. “Playing this leader role may not be too far from you,” she said. “Did you have anyone in mind?” 

“Eleven,” Glinda said promptly. “They’re sixteen and eighteen years old respectively, not too starved, look strong. And they’re both attractive. I can watch them tomorrow, see if they have promise.”

Madam was silent for a while, then nodded. “I’ll have a word. Well done, Glinda. Now, get some rest and be ready for training tomorrow. You have a lot of work to do.”

She stood up and walked to the door, then turned and looked back at Glinda with a curious expression. 

“We’ll work together well, you and I,” she said. “Just be aware, these Games can hit you hard, much harder than you expect. You may need to make some tough choices.”

“I know what lies ahead,” Glinda said, hoping that this was true. 

“Still,” Madam said, then shrugged. “You could be a great victor, Glinda. I do hope you have what it takes.”

* * *

When Glinda arrived down for training the day after—before Avaric, who was still sourly chugging coffee up in the One apartment—she found Lias and Pfannee, the District Two tributes, standing by themselves apart from the other tributes. They were subtly flexing, not making a posturing thing out of it but clearly making themselves look as big and intimidating as possible. 

So this was off to a fairly predictable start, then. 

“Good morning!” Glinda chirped, waving at them cheerfully. “So today, we should start by evaluating our different strong points. I believe swords, then knives, after that spears and projectiles. Do either of you have a preferred weapon?”

There was a moment’s hesitation, but then Pfannee relaxed somewhat. She was the same age as Glinda, but tiny, hardly reaching up to Glinda’s shoulder. Still, as a Two she’d have at least five years of solid battle training under her belt. “I’m good with knives,” she said. 

“Ranged weapons,” Lias offered. 

“OK, and Avaric is a swordsman, and spears are my forte,” Glinda said. That was true, but she decided to not let on about her additional skills with knives during training. It would pay to have an ace tucked away for when the alliance eventually broke towards the end of the Games. “Good, we should be a well-rounded group, then. Now all we need is for Avaric to resurface from his coffee...”

Lias and Pfannee both laughed, and Glinda could see that Madam Morrible had, of course, been right. They’d easily yielded the leader role to her. Avaric was the only one who might put a wrench in that now, but at the same time, he’d have been coached by his mentor Chalcedony not to. Her position should be safe. 

When Avaric arrived, still sporting a particularly grumpy brand of morning fatigue, he settled without fuss into the role of the group’s second-in-command, and Glinda felt the final tension drain from her shoulders. This would work out. 

The final tributes were still arriving, so they kept chatting casually, keeping up the appearance of tributes with nothing to fear. Glinda was laughing at something Lias had just said when she heard a kind of gasp go through the assembly and turned to see Girl Five, standing with stiff shoulders and clenched jaw in the doorway. 

Her skin, even more noticeable now in the morning light, was a bright pea-green. 

In the silence that had fallen, Glinda giggled. “Oh my goodness, Five, didn’t you _shower_?” she asked, and Lias instantly barked out laughter. The rest of the alliance was quick to follow, and soon, the entire training hall was laughing. 

Five was staring at Glinda as though she wished the Games could come early. “Six times,” she said tightly. “I showered _six times_.”

Glinda smiled condescendingly. She intended to be the leader of her alliance. She was going to be the most interesting, deadly, funny and charming one out there. That meant taking charge. And although she knew it was ugly, in this world it also meant making clear who were the underdogs. A girl like this would only be bloodbath fodder anyway. 

“Well,” Glinda said, flicking her hair back over her shoulder with a dismissive air, “I do hope for your sake that beauty doesn’t only run skin deep.”

Five was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “What can I say,” she said. “I guess I just absorb things quickly. On that note, can anyone point me to the knife station?”

That made those still laughing shut up. Glinda was impressed. She had made a miscalculation in her initial assessment—this girl obviously wasn’t a victim, and there was a wryness about her that Glinda found rather entertaining. At the same time, that meant Glinda had someone to work against. 

She had someone who could be her villain.

“What is your name, _Five_?” she asked, putting condescending emphasis on the last word. 

“Elphaba Thropp,” the girl answered. “No need to ask your name. People have been screaming it outside all morning.”

“Oh,” Glinda giggled, “I’m so sorry if my fans woke you early. Wouldn’t want to deprive _you_ of _any_ beauty sleep.”

Elphaba looked back at her, calculating. “No, that’s fine,” she said blithely. “You know what they say about the crowd that applauds your coronation.”

That one hit a little too close to a worry Glinda had. She narrowed her eyes, trying to come up with a riposte. 

“Good morning,” someone said, and a tall man stepped into view. “I am Hanik, and I will be your principal trainer for these couple of days before the Games begin.”

Glinda relaxed, turning her focus to the man and steadfastly ignoring Elphaba. She could still feel Elphaba’s gaze on her, however, all through the explanation. 

Glinda felt sure she was laughing, somehow.

* * *

The Elevens were both good potential additions to the alliance, and with Madam Morrible’s blessing, Glinda invited them to join on the second day of training. 

The girl, Shenshen, was quick and powerful, great in close combat, and Fiyero was good with spears. And of course it didn’t hurt that he was very cute, too. 

“You can use that,” Madam Morrible had said when they discussed the pair in more depth. “During low points in the Games, you may need to keep up the audience’s interest. A little flirt wouldn’t hurt.”

“A romance? _Here_?”

Madam had snorted. “Not really, of course. But I’ve found there’s virtually nothing the Capitol won’t believe if you sell it well enough.”

So now Glinda was watching Fiyero, wondering if it would be appropriate to lay down some groundwork right now. For an Eleven, he had a rather careless air that was pretty fun. He was obviously aware of his own beauty, too. 

They would make an absolutely perfect pair. 

“You’re good at that,” Glinda said, leaning her head to one side as she watched Fiyero shift grip on his spear easily to attack his training dummy from another angle. He turned his head to give her a wonderfully charming smile. 

“I’ve worked with picker poles most of my life,” he said. “You get used to the heft. I think spears might be my thing.”

“You have a good start.” Glinda smiled. “But can you do this?” 

She picked up a spear and raised it to elbow height, then twirled it rapidly around her body, switching hands behind her back and finally striking a pose. She laughed at his expression. 

“Not a combat move,” she admitted. “It was part of a kata back home. But it teaches control.”

“You are just adorable,” Fiyero said, grinning. 

Glinda was about to respond with something suitably sweet and witty when the sound of someone laughing made them both look around. Glinda frowned. Elphaba was standing nearby, at the rope station, with one of the younger boys—the one from District Ten. She had his hands caught in a snare and he was laughing, trying to pull himself free. 

“That’s what could happen if you don’t look where you’re going, Dillamond,” Elphaba said, one corner of her mouth lifted in what was possibly an actual smile. “Here, let me show you a trick to get out if you don't have a knife...”

Glinda scoffed, turning back to Fiyero. “Honestly,” she said quietly, “what does she hope to achieve by that? She’ll only have to watch him die in the Arena.” 

Fiyero shrugged. “I think she seems kind of fun, actually. It’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“All of us meeting here. Like this. It could have been great, but we’ll be killing each other in a few days. Best to get used to the thought.”

Glinda looked at him, surprised. “You’re far more callow than I would have thought.”

He grinned. “All of this is so bizarre. It’s better to shrug it off, I think. Don’t give it too much thought. Just push through.” He gave her a startlingly shrewd look. “You seem to have that down pat.”

Glinda hesitated. She wondered just how much he saw. 

“I think,” she said, “the best thing might just be to try to find moments of whatever fun we can, while we can. That’s the best way to handle it, I think.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Fiyero said, giving her another pretty smile. “So, what do you say—should we show everyone here what this lancer couple has to offer?”

It seemed, Glinda thought, that she had indeed found her flirt. She smiled at him. 

“Ten points for head, twenty for heart,” she suggested, raising her spear and nodding towards the further set of dummies used for target practice. 

“First to fifty,” Fiyero agreed, and threw his spear. 

He was indeed very good. Nowhere near Glinda, of course, but there was no need to let on about that. She let him come close to beating her, then finished the game by what she referred to as a “lucky shot”. 

After accepting her victory with grace and while Fiyero was retrieving the spears, she looked up at the Gamemakers and tipped them a wink, reminding them that there was a lot more to her than the rather lackluster effort she was putting into training right now. Several of them laughed, nudging each other. 

So far, everything seemed to be working out perfectly.

* * *

“Glinda Upland,” a voice behind Glinda said as she stood outside the training room after lunch, putting her hair up in preparation for the upcoming wrestling sessions. She jerked, startled, but composed her features and turned to find a man staring intensely at her. 

“Hello?” she said, smiling prettily. He was pretty young, maybe twenty years or so, but something about his general demeanor said _important_. She racked her mind, trying to come up with where she might have seen him before and how he fitted into the Capitol’s complex hierarchies. “Have we met?”

“Not until now, no,” the man said. He was standing much too close to her. “More’s the pity.”

Glinda smiled again, giving her best charmed expression. 

“I’m a Junior Gamemaker,” the man went on, extending his hand, and she bent over it respectfully. “Call me Coriolanus; all my friends do. And I would so like for us to be friends.”

“I’m flattered,” Glinda said, batting her eyelashes demurely. Coriolanus’s hand was dry and strangely cool, but gripped hers with a surprising and unsettling strength. “I do hope to prove my worth in the Arena.”

“I’m certain you will,” he said. He was still holding on to her hand, one finger moving against her wrist in what was almost a caress. “I have been watching you with great interest. I believe you could do more than just win these Games—you could change the very way they’re played.”

“I am sure you give me too much credit.” 

“Not at all, dear girl.”

“Then I shall do my very best to live up to your expectations!” Glinda said cheerfully, and managed at last to extract herself from the prolonged handshake. “I believe they’re about to begin the afternoon exercises. I must ask you to excuse me.”

“Of course. Very pleasant to meet you.” Coriolanus nodded at her. “I wish you luck in the Arena, where I’m sure the odds will be entirely in your favour. Indeed, I feel certain I will be able to welcome you back to the Capitol as our new, radiant victor quite soon.”

“I look forward to it,” Glinda said politely, smiled at him again and turned to join the training. 

She felt his eyes on her all the rest of the afternoon, the feeling following her even into her quarters in the evening and making the back of her neck prickle with unease.

* * *

When Glinda came down to the gym on the last day of training, she found Fiyero chatting to Elphaba. 

Elphaba was standing back, stiff and awkward, while he was leaning against the wall beside her, all handsomeness and casual grace. Glinda bristled. This was ridiculous. 

“Fiyero, dear, you shouldn’t play with your food,” she said, stepping smartly up and linking her arm with his, then smiling sweetly at Elphaba. “Good morning, _Five_.”

“Career girl,” Elphaba replied coolly. “I see you haven’t managed to find any class.” 

“Nor you any wits,” Glinda shot back. It came out sharper and less condescending than she had planned, and she wondered how Elphaba always managed to find precisely the most worrying thing to say. Cheap or lacking in class was one thing she really couldn't afford to be seen as—she was supposed to be elegant and luxurious, befitting District One. “Do you really think you’re here to make friends? The Arena will be a nasty surprise for you.” 

“Well, I dare say there are some people I won’t be distraught to see go,” Elphaba replied, sneering. “As for making friends, you can blame your boyfriend for that. He does have that whole airhead thing down, doesn’t he? I’d just as soon you both left me alone, thanks.” 

Fiyero grinned easily, apparently not taking offense at all. “What can I say? I guess I just find you fascinating.”

The thing was, Glinda thought as she steered Fiyero away firmly, that he wasn’t wrong. There _was_ something fascinating about Elphaba—something undeniably compelling about her dry wit, her unflinching cynicism, and not least the rage so very apparently there under the surface. 

But Glinda couldn’t afford fascination. And it would be very stupid to try to make an ally out of Elphaba, when she made such a very practical villain.

* * *

Augusta Winkley, the host of the Hunger Games, laughed and waved at the audience. 

“Welcome!” she trilled, waggling her fingers playfully at someone in the first row. “Welcome, one and all, to the _twentieth_ Hunger Games. Are you excited?”

The audience roared back enthusiastically. 

“Rightly so!” Augusta exclaimed. “What a year. What an anniversary. What a line-up! Now, I am as excited as you are to hear what they have to say. As this is a special year, our tributes will be given the great honour of an audience with none other than the Wizard of the Capitol, our President Oscar Zoroaster Diggs!”

President Diggs walked out on stage to deafening cheers and took Augusta’s hands in his, kissing her on both cheeks before sitting down in the chair indicated for him. Why he was called the Wizard, Glinda had never been able to find out exactly, but the prevailing theory seemed to be that he’d been one of the most influential in beating down the District Thirteen threat in the Great Panem War. The Wizard had risen quickly in the Capitol ranks during the war, coming up as though out of nowhere, and after the war had reached its end had been announced as the president after what one could only assume was some kind of political management going on backstage. It was always hard to know with the Capitol, of course—what was real and what was just puppetry.

“Thank you, Augusta,” he said, showing green-tinted teeth in a somewhat unsettling smile. “I can’t wait to hear what these young people have to share with us.”

“Indeed,” Augusta said, giggling back at him. “So, without further ado, I welcome our first tribute—Glinda Upland of District One!” 

Glinda took a deep breath and smoothed down the panels of her skirt. Her stylists had definitely come through, with an enormous, blue, glittery dress and a diadem of stars cheekily similar to a crown. Glinda had worried about that, but Madam had reassured her that the Capitol loved few things more than a winner. 

Privately, Glinda thought that Elphaba’s words from the first day of training had a point. One thing the Capitol _did_ love more than a winner was a surprise, and they’d be just as happy cheering her death as her victory. Broadcasting herself as the future victor too much too soon might, in fact, just as well lead the Gamemakers to send a pack of mutts after her on her first day in the Arena. Still, she trusted that Madam was savvy enough to know when to turn on the brakes. 

She pushed her shoulders back, adjusted her hair and walked out into the spotlights. 

The audience went insane. 

There wasn’t even a hint of the booing that sometimes accompanied tribute interviews. Instead, there were only cheers and applause, the screams so loud that Glinda had to force herself not to reel back. She raised a hand, waving, and smiled as big as she was able. On a whim, she took off the ring the stylists had given her and tossed it out into the audience; six people collided trying to grab it. 

Augusta laughed delightedly. “My dear Glinda, come here before you start an absolute riot!” 

Glinda waved one last time, blew a few kisses into the hysterical crowd and joined the other two, stretching up on her toes to kiss Augusta’s cheek. 

It was a huge gamble, using such an intimate gesture, as though she had any right as a tribute to act so familiar. To her great relief, however, Augusta only hesitated for a moment before accepting the kiss, and even gave Glinda a peck in return. It placed Glinda firmly on equal footing. She smiled radiantly. 

Next, she turned to President Diggs and sank into a low curtsey. “Mr President,” she said, looking down demurely. 

“Very happy to meet you,” the Wizard said, holding out a hand to her. She bowed over it. 

Her seat was between Augusta and the president, a low bench to their upholstered chairs, placing her clearly below the two others—all part of the shaming that still saturated the Games, even though it had been turning more and more into a colourful show over the last couple of years. Glinda sat down with one leg folded under her in a sweetly coquettish posture that also managed to raise her up a bit, and smoothed her skirt out around her. She held her head high and leaned back on one hand, making sure she could see both the president and Augusta without having to tilt her head awkwardly. 

She was going to make everyone remember her grace, her elegance, her poise. 

“So, Miss Upland,” President Diggs began, “you are our very first tribute, from District One. Do you have family back home?”

“My Momsie and Popsicle,” Glinda said, and heard the audience _awwww_. Back home, Mom and Dad must be wondering what kind of drugs the Capitol had her on, but since the game was being sugary sweet, Glinda had decided that she might as well go for cavities. “I hope they are just the _proudliest_ today! Now that I’m here in the Games, I want to do my very best.”

“And if you make it through the Games?” the president asked. “Do you have any ideas about what happens then? How are you planning to serve Panem?”

“Oh, I really haven’t thought that far,” Glinda said, batting her eyelashes. “I think I’d simply like to help my district in any way I can. I’d like to work for them, for the Capitol, for Panem, and for all of our future together.” She looked down, laughing. “In the end, I suppose I just—I want to do _good_.”

She smiled up at President Diggs, then out at the audience, and cheers broke out once more. 

After that, the president asked her a bit about her skills, and she got to switch over into more calculating, cold, leader mode. Madam had been right, of course—it was obvious that this both shocked and titillated the audience. 

“And let’s just say that that anyone trying to take these shoes from me better be ready for a fight,” she said, raising the hem of her skirt cheekily to flaunt a glittery shoe and winking at the president. “Especially if I have a spear in my hand. You wouldn’t want to get on by bad side!”

“I’m not entirely convinced you have one,” Augusta said playfully, finishing off the interview neatly. “Ladies and gentlemen, give a big round of applause to this darling tribute— _Glinda the Good_ , everyone!”

Glinda stood up to take her bow, twirling around to show the dress to best effect and smiling brilliantly for the cameras. There was another storm of applause, and she allowed herself a second curtsy before traipsing off back into the line of waiting tributes at the back of the stage. Avaric moved past without even looking at her and headed out on stage to applause that was noticeably less enthusiastic. 

“Well, you’re certainly blowing the rest of us out of the water,” Pfannee said, her mouth twisted into a tight little smile. 

“I’m sure you’re going to simply _wow_ them,” Glinda replied quickly, smiling brightly at her. “ _Love_ that dress, by the way!”

Pfannee rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, staring out towards the stage. Glinda gave both her and Lias another brilliant smile that they didn’t deign to notice, then as they both were staring resolutely in another direction, she pulled an ugly face. 

As Avaric started to posture out on stage about how amazing he was in every way, Glinda let her gaze sweep across the other tributes waiting for their turn in the spotlight and met Elphaba’s. From Elphaba’s suddenly curious expression, she realised that she’d been spotted. All the other tributes were staring out at the interview out on center stage, expressions ranging from terror to sullen watchfulness, but Elphaba was watching her. 

Glinda shook her hair back, stuck her nose up haughtily and looked out towards the audience.

The rest of the interviews passed quickly by. Pfannee had been right—no one else even came close to energising the audience as much as Glinda had. The other tributes from One and Two were at least hailed mainly with cheers, albeit not quite as hysterical, but the remaining tributes received at best some rather unenthusiastic applause and a few hisses. 

When Elphaba stepped out into the spotlights, however, the entire audience gasped. Augusta actually clapped her hands over her mouth for a moment. 

“This is absolutely fascinating!” she said. “I’d heard rumours, but—ladies and gentlemen, have you _seen_ how well this dye holds up?”

Elphaba was staring at her with barely concealed disdain. “Yes, isn’t it amazing,” she said dryly. 

“Well, I can tell you,” Augusta went on, “that I at least am,” she winked at the audience, “just _green_ with envy!”

“Hilarious,” Elphaba said, as the audience collapsed into laughter. 

Augusta laughed as loud as any of them, and then gestured for Elphaba to sit down. She did so after bowing her head shortly to the president. 

The Wizard was looking at her intently, a curious expression on his face. “How very nice to meet you, miss Thropp,” he said. “You look like—you’re—you have a very interesting look.”

“I’ve been told I stand out,” Elphaba said. “Well, lately.”

“You’re from District Five,” the president went on. “What, er, what does your family do?” 

“My father is a foreman in the Diggs power plant,” Elphaba said. “It’s where I work as well, and my sister, as far as she’s able. My mother used to be head of personnel there, too.”

“Used to?” Augusta interposed. “What’s she doing now?”

“Decomposing,” Elphaba said. 

Glinda groaned inwardly. She ought to be happy that Elphaba was blowing it so completely, but it felt like such a waste. Because Elphaba was actually funny. If she’d only tone down the sarcasm, she could have a killer interview. 

“These are the twentieth Games,” the president was saying, moving quickly on to the next line of questioning. “Do you have any thoughts about the Arena?”

“Somewhere green would be good, I suppose,” Elphaba said, and if she’d only smile, Glinda knew she could have that audience shouting her name. She was already easily the most recognisable tribute; it was a shame no one had told her how to work it. District Five had no victor as of yet, so they probably had their Capitol escort doing the work of mentor. Whoever they were, they were obviously not doing their job right. 

Once Elphaba had sneered her way off stage, Glinda—along with the Capitol audience—lost interest a bit. She kept note of all the tinies, the twelve- and thirteen-year-olds, and the weak and sick. They would better off being spared from the worst of the Games. It depended on how the Arena was constructed, but usually, the bloodbath was the place to give all the smallest a chance of dying early and easy. 

Apart from that, there were few stand-outs. There were a couple of boys from outlying districts who looked fit enough to put up a fight, and Glinda made note of their names—Tibbett, Babur, Crope. The girl from District Nine, Dorothy, might be worth keeping an eye on as well. She was doing a whole wide-eyed innocent routine, but her private training session had gained her a not negligible score of seven. Elphaba’s friend from training, the boy from District Ten, was probably another one for the bloodbath, however. He was only fourteen, and with a training score of four, he obviously hadn’t impressed anyone enough to have a chance. 

Since the composition of the alliance never stayed secret for long, both Shenshen and Fiyero enjoyed some attention. Their stylists had gone the full military routine with their interview clothes, and Fiyero in particular got some very appreciative applause.

He was a brilliant interview subject, too. He smiled effortlessly into the cameras, flirted shamelessly with the entire audience, and spoke warmly about being included in the alliance.

“I want to do my part,” he said, looking earnestly at the president. “Glinda did us a great honour by allowing us to share their glory. She’s a wonderful leader. And,” he grinned, “it doesn’t hurt that she’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen in my life. I think she’s perfect in every way.”

“Hm, Fiyero. Do I sense that you may have a little romantic interest in our Glinda the Good?” Augusta asked, leaning her chin on her hand. 

“Well, of course,” Fiyero said simply, making her laugh. He turned from her to face the audience, smiling a blindingly white smile. “Doesn’t everyone here?” 

As the audience laughed, a few of them even giving him some cheers, Glinda sensed the rest of the alliance watching her sullenly. She felt annoyed. As long as they were still allies, any attention she received would only reflect well on them. None of them seemed to be able to do the bigger picture thinking—well, apart from Fiyero, who had realised exactly how to play Glinda’s popularity to his own advantage. 

It was good to have at least one person on the same level as her. 

After the two final District Twelve tributes, both half-starved, coal-sickened children, the Hunger Games anthem played for the end of the interviews. Glinda stood with the rest of the tributes, making sure to tilt her head for the best angle of the cameras. She had done what she could to give herself an edge in the Arena. She had a name and an image, and now she just had to play the Games according to that role. 

She thought she could make that work.


	2. No one Lays a Lily on your Grave

**ACT TWO**

It was the fourth day of the Games, and Glinda and her alliance were hunting.

It had been a harrowing couple of first days. The bloodbath was always the most grotesque part of the Games, and being part of it herself had been a horrific experience. When the adrenaline kicked in, in the furious dash towards the Cornucopia and the panicked search for weapons, Glinda had managed to kill two of her fellow tributes without hesitating. Later, however, after the initial bloody mayhem had subsided, the realisation of what she’d done had crashed into her and she’d found herself shaking all over. 

Since the rest of her alliance had been on the verge of breaking apart completely at that point, she’d had to step up. Assign tasks. Sort out weapons and supplies. Make sure they buried all the initial victims a long way away from their chosen campsite. 

(Last year, the alliance hadn’t been so forward-thinking. It had been an arid, desert-like Arena that year, and with the victims of the bloodbath lying where they’d died, the area around the Cornucopia had turned into a putrid horror show within two days. The alliance had been forced to leave their strategic advantage long before they should have. After that, the Gamemakers had started talking about having some sort of system for removing the fallen tributes from the Arena, but Glinda didn’t count on that being implemented yet.)

They’d had a couple of days of recuperation after that. They were all keeping up a casual front for each other, shrugging off the bloodbath as though it meant nothing, but Glinda had known they’d need a few days to process what their lives were like now. She’d seen alliances tear themselves apart before. 

Now, however, enough time had passed that they needed to show some initiative. They’d started a long trek into the Arena, walking quietly and keeping an eye out for either other tributes or potential wild game. This was a rather classic Arena, a forest-like habitat with some higher ground as well, and Lias at least was a pretty good hunter. Some addition to their rations wouldn’t go amiss. 

Also, Glinda wanted to start mapping the area. She’d ventured only short distances from their camp at the Cornucopia, but every time, she’d found herself unsure of the way back—one time certain she was lost for real until she heard the noise of Lias and Shenshen’s laughter behind her and realised that she’d been walking in completely the wrong direction. The forest was tricky, it appeared, the same patterns of stones and trees appearing over and over. They’d need to be careful. Glinda was making marks as they went now, breaking branches and piling rocks into little pyramids. As the alliance, they had no need to keep their presence hidden yet. 

She was carrying a few hunting knives, too, trying to work out if she could adapt some of her knife throwing skills for them. The Gamemakers had decided to be bastards this year; there hadn’t been a single spear in the Cornucopia. She was planning to make herself a wooden one, and was keeping an eye out for suitable saplings. 

“How long are we going to walk today?” Pfannee asked sourly, breaking the silence of their trek. “We haven’t seen even a sign of another tribute.”

“We should start thinking about turning back,” Glinda agreed. “We’ll need time to get back.”

“Finally,” Shenshen sighed, cracking her neck. “Come on, let’s go. I want to sit down to a fire.”

As soon as she’d said it, there was a crack of a breaking twig, and they all looked up to see a boy step into view some way away, freezing immediately when he caught sight of them. 

There was a still moment when they all just stared at each other. The boy was one of the younger ones, small and ragged-looking, with a tangled mess of hair and a dirty face—and with a start, Glinda recognised him through the grime as the goat boy, the one from District Ten. 

Elphaba’s friend. 

Lias unfroze first, throwing his crossbow onto his shoulder and firing. The bolt hit the boy in the stomach with a wet thud that could be heard even across the distance between them, but he only jerked slightly, looking more shocked than hurt. 

“Reload,” Pfannee snapped, and it was as though the word unlocked something. Glinda shook herself out of her shock, Shenshen started fumbling for a knife and the boy gasped, then turned and ran. Lias fired again, but he didn’t have time to align his shot properly and it went awry, missing the boy by inches. He ducked behind a tree and was immediately lost from sight. 

Glinda drew in breath sharply and started forward. 

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.”

“Why?” Pfannee demanded, crossing her arms. “That one’s fast; I remember from training. You’ll have a chase on your hands.”

“He’s a goner anyway,” Avaric agreed. “Good shot, Lias.”

“Oh, yeah, especially that second one,” Glinda said sharply. “Come on, we’re losing him. We can’t let him suffer. That’s not OK.”

“You go, if you’re so hot for action,” Avaric said sourly. “I say that Lias did his job, and we’ll have one less tribute to contend with tomorrow. He’ll die whether you finish the job or not, Glinda.”

“It’s not about that,” Glinda snapped. “It’s about getting a clean death. But fine, if you all want to hang back, do it. I’ll go and fix your mistake, Lias.”

She knew she was pushing it, but the cavalier attitude to other people’s pain irked her. Avaric had had the same training as her. He should know that the Games weren’t only about winning—they were about winning honourably. 

The rest of her alliance were staring sullenly at her, but Fiyero was looking torn. Eventually he shrugged. “You’re right. I’ll go with you.” 

“Glad to see one of you has a conscience,” Glinda said coolly. “The rest of you, make camp for now. We’ll meet back here.”

She could feel their angry glares on her back as she walked away. But she was the leader. She had to be the brain, but also the conscience. 

She was Glinda the Good, after all.

* * *

Glinda padded quickly but quietly through the forest, making sure to make as little noise as possible. She and Fiyero had split up some way back, to look for the wounded boy in two different directions. 

Soon, it became clear that she had chosen the right path. She saw droplets of blood, smeared on leaves and low branches. Even if she didn’t find him, the boy would in all likelihood bleed out on his own before long—but that would be painful and terrifying. No one deserved a drawn-out, lonely death. 

It didn’t take too long for her to catch up. She saw him ahead of her and sped up, but then he stepped beyond a thicket of bushes and was lost from her sight. As she ran softly up to the thicket and peered out, making sure that she wasn’t heading into a trap, she saw that the boy had fallen to his knees in a clearing just beyond, doubling up painfully. Glinda’s throat tightened. It was time to end this. 

Before she had time to step out, however, she saw something move on the other side of the clearing and hung back, waiting in case this was someone to watch out for. With the primary contenders still out there, she had to be careful. 

The person that came into view was Elphaba. She ran across the clearing, collapsing next to the boy and taking him into her arms. She was sobbing, one hand fluttering helplessly across the crossbow bolt and then coming up to stroke his face, leaving blood smears against his cheek. 

“No,” Glinda heard her say. “Dill, hold on, please!”

The boy tried to say something, but he only managed to gargle incoherently, coughing up blood. He didn’t have long, Glinda could tell. 

What she ought to do now was attack Elphaba while she was distracted. She had no long-distance weapons, but with Elphaba’s focus so completely on the boy, Glinda ought to be able to surprise her. It would be quick, with minimal risk to herself. 

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t attack a girl holding a dying boy in her arms. 

She hung back, watching Elphaba sob into the boy’s hair, waiting for what felt like forever until the cannon finally fired. She wondered briefly, then, if she could still take out Elphaba now, but the moment had passed. After laying the boy down gently in the grass, Elphaba took his backpack, slung it over her shoulder and then rose to her feet. Glinda hardly had time to react before she’d turned and sprinted off, out of the clearing. She was gone from sight within seconds. 

She wasn’t stupid, after all.

Glinda breathed out, letting the tension drain from her body. There was no point in going after Elphaba now. And although she’d let a good moment slip through her fingers, Glinda couldn’t help feeling relieved. Besides, if she made it through, it would have been hard for her to justify that kind of cold attack. 

She sheathed her knife and turned back towards camp.

* * *

When she finally made it back to the others—she’d lost her path somehow at one point and had had to backtrack, cursing her distractedness—she found the rest of them sitting close together and talking around a small campfire. Lias was the first to see her, and he nudged Pfannee hard in the ribs, making her look up hastily and the other two turn around.

“Well done on the camp,” Glinda said, and because she felt it was important to mend fences right now, she didn’t point out that she’d made it to within throwing knife distance before they saw her. “Is Fiyero back yet?”

“Not yet,” Pfannee said. She was looking strangely tense, her expression hard and calculating. “Glinda—”

“Hello,” someone said from the other side of the campfire, and Fiyero stepped into view. “I didn’t get the boy, but I’m guessing from that cannon before that you did, Glinda?”

Glinda looked around the faces of the rest of the group. Some of the tension had bled out of them with Fiyero’s arrival, and she reflected not for the first time over the power he had over people. His self-effacing mask of airheaded good nature somehow always put people at ease.

“He’s at peace now,” she said simply. 

“Well, you took your sweet time,” Pfannee said sourly. “We’re not going to make it back to the Cornucopia tonight.”

Glinda took a deep breath and reminded herself that apart from the six of them, there were ten other tributes still in play. This alliance had to hold for a lot longer.

“I know,” she said, smiling sweetly. “I’m sorry about that. Look, we’ll just have to make this camp a little more fortified, and then we can start the trek back to the Cornucopia tomorrow instead. And I’ll take watch tonight, of course. You guys rest up.”

That, at least, stopped the grumbling for the time being. Glinda smiled inwardly. The audience watching back in the Capitol would hardly miss the fact that she’d just offered a rest to the people who’d only sat around all afternoon whining. She was becoming a stronger victor with every choice she made, and her alliance couldn’t even see it coming.

* * *

Like a classic hubris saga, everything went to hell the next day.

Glinda felt tense already at breakfast, but blamed it on her lack of sleep and the lingering disturbance of watching the Ten boy die. Fiyero had woken early, and while he’d watched she’d managed an hour’s fitful slumber, but apart from that, she’d been on guard and alone with her thoughts for the entire night. She thought that was all it was, the feeling of unease that coiled in her stomach, making her back tense up and her hair prickle.

After breakfast, Fiyero announced quite cheerfully that he was going for a pee.

“Bring the flasks and fill them up in the creek,” Pfannee said. “Since you’re going off anyway, I mean. We’ll need to have plenty of water for the trek back—looks like a hot day.”

“Sure,” Fiyero agreed, grinning at her. “Well, aren’t you turning into the little leader?”

Pfannee rolled her eyes, but Glinda felt that sense of unease creeping up her back again as Fiyero walked off, whistling happily. Pfannee was throwing her weight around more and more lately. 

She concentrated on packing up her things, trying to force the tiredness down. She had to be strong, invincible.

“Hope you don’t mind,” Pfannee said behind her. “Me taking initiative.”

Glinda turned and smiled prettily. “Of course not, dear! We’re a team, aren’t we?”

“I wasn’t entirely sure,” Pfannee said. “You were a bit of a one-woman show back in the Capitol.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” Glinda said, laughing. “I think we all complement each other very well.”

“Well, you can’t deny that you’re the most popular,” Pfannee said, and then as Glinda turned back to her things, added, “Too popular, you might say.”

Glinda felt her body react before her mind had caught up, twisting away and stepping back as Pfannee lunged. Still, Pfannee’s knife caught her left arm, tearing through the jacket sleeve into the flesh beneath, and Glinda staggered as the pain blossomed, sharp and hot. 

“Sorry,” Pfannee said, her mouth twisting. “But I’m tired of playing court to your queen.”

Glinda gasped for breath, grasping at her wound with her other hand. This was all too soon, she thought wildly. The Ones and Twos would usually come down to a power struggle, yes, but never this early. 

“Avaric—” she began, but realised as soon as she looked his way and saw him facing her with a defensive stance that no help would come from his quarter. This was no ordinary civil war, a struggle for dominance between the two strongest factions. 

This was a coup. 

Glinda drew a knife and looked around, gauging her chances. Lias was hanging back, his crossbow in his grasp but not yet loaded. It would be difficult for him to get off a good shot here. Shenshen, too, was holding off on attacking for the time being—she was best at unarmed combat, and knew to leave the knife play to others. But Pfannee was closing in, and Avaric was stepping forward, too, unsheathing a knife of his own. 

“Brave of you,” Glinda said quickly, raising her eyebrows at Pfannee and then nodding at Avaric. “I’m sure everyone at home is cheering for you right now.”

She saw Pfannee hesitate. District Two tributes always highlighted their honour in battle. 

Pfannee turned her head towards Avaric. “She’s mine,” she said, and Glinda took a deep breath. Panic was screaming through her, but she tried to force it down. One on one, she might at least have a chance. Maybe, she might even regain enough power to leave on her own. 

_You’re going to die here_ , she thought, unable to stop herself. 

Pfannee lunged again, and Glinda threw up her left arm at the last moment, knocking Pfannee’s arm away. The movement sent pain screaming down the entire length of her arm, and she let it drop back to her side quickly, gritting her teeth and trying to blink away the black spots dancing in front of her eyes. She attempted to strike back in turn, but Pfannee was quick and uninjured and danced away quickly, managing to deal another blow to Glinda’s arm on the way. 

This was going bad right from the start. Pfannee’s initial strike had gone deeper than Glinda had first thought, and her arm was burning with the pain of it. It was all but useless as it was now, but she couldn’t let them see that. 

“Get her, Pfann!” Lias shouted from somewhere off to the side, and Glinda felt rage flood her body at the infantile cheer of it. He was playing for the cameras, she knew, but for the first time, she realised how truly cruel that was. 

She threw herself forward, anger giving her a new jolt of energy, and managed a strike that had Pfannee twisting away from her awkwardly. The sense of victory was short, however, when Pfanne used the ill-conceived attack to dodge under her arm and come in close.

Before Glinda even realised what was happening, the knife tore into her stomach and stuck. 

As Glinda screamed and wrenched away, the knife was pulled out of Pfannee’s grasp. Pfannee stepped back quickly out of Glinda’s reach, tripping over some uneven surface and landing hard on her side. 

Glinda saw and acted in the same moment. She was still within reach of the campfire, and with Pfannee on the ground, she had a sudden advantage. Instead of stepping back to recover, she ran forward, kicking the campfire hard and sending burning branches and embers flying into Pfannee’s face. 

“NO!” Lias shouted, and then everything happened at once. 

Pfannee screamed, trying to bat the fire away from her clothes and hair, and Lias dropped his crossbow to run towards her. 

“Water!” Shenshen screeched, throwing herself towards their bags of provisions and trying to drag them out of harm’s way, and Avaric turned and ran back towards the edge of their camp, probably in search of some remaining water supplies. Pfannee was wailing, a hand clapped over one eye as her other, flailing arm caught Lias a violent blow to the face. 

But Glinda didn’t have time to see what happened after that, because she turned and sprinted away. 

As she ran, she soon heard the others screaming behind her, and then the crash and crackle of people running through the woods. They would catch up to her before long. Perhaps, she thought with a strange clarity in the midst of her panic, it would simply have to be a last stand for her. At the very least she could go out swinging. 

At the very least, she could be free from the Arena. 

And as hopelessness turned, on that thought, into hope, Glinda stumbled through a thicket of bushes and fell helplessly over a ledge.

* * *

Glinda opened her eyes slowly, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. Everything was foggy and blurred, bits and pieces of the day coming back in no particular order. Then, as she blinked the sweat and tears from her eyes and realised that she was lying in the mouth of some sort of cave, everything came crashing back with urgency. She’d been chased. She’d fallen. By some magical stroke of luck, she must have landed here. 

She tried to sit up, and almost screamed out loud with the pain. Feeling gingerly with her right hand—her left lay by her side; moving it was agony—her questing fingers felt the hilt of Pfannee’s knife, still sticking into her stomach. 

Glinda laid her head down, breathing deeply and trying to plan. The sun didn’t seem too high yet, and she was pretty sure she hadn’t lost an entire day, so it couldn’t be too long since she’d run from the camp. Still, she couldn’t hear any noise of pursuit. With the alliance’s lazy treatment of the injured boy the day before, it was of course quite possible they’d realised that she’d fallen and just left it there, believing she’d die sooner or later. Well, now she had the possibility of showing them how unwise that sort of action was. 

If she managed to survive this, of course. 

She managed eventually, after some painstakingly slow movements, to worm her way out of her jacket and shirt, although every time she felt the knife shift it was like being stabbed all over again. The shirt was good linen and felt impossibly tough to her trembling hands, but after a lot of work she finally managed to tear some rudimentary bandages for her arm out of it. Of course, she would really have wanted to clean the wounds first, but she had to make do with what she had. 

The stomach wound was harder. Gritting her teeth, she yanked Pfannee’s knife out and then pressed hard with a wad of linen to the wound, wrapping the remainder of her shirt around herself and tying it hard. 

She had no idea if this would even help. She had no disinfectant, no proper bandages and nothing to perform stitches. But it was better than doing nothing, and it meant that she showed initiative, or something. 

She wriggled into her jacket again and zipped it up to her chin, then fell back exhausted and let sleep take her. 

When she woke the next time, it was almost dark, and someone was moving nearby.

* * *

Glinda scrabbled on the ground next to her for the knife, hoping against hope that whoever out there was someone small she might possibly intimidate into leaving her alone. She’d have no chance against someone who could actually fight.

The person stepped into the cave mouth and stopped short, staring at her.

It was Elphaba. She was carrying a backpack over one shoulder and looked extremely dirty, but still uninjured.

“Career girl,” she said eventually, her gaze taking in Glinda’s position, the blood everywhere and the general mess. “Didn’t expect you here.”

Glinda winced inwardly. She must be looking even worse than she felt, if Elphaba felt safe enough to snark, rather than run away or attack. 

“Took a detour,” she replied sweetly. “Sorry, didn’t realise this was occupied.”

“So now that you do know, will you be leaving?” Elphaba asked pointedly. 

Glinda scowled back at her. “You’d better have something long-range in that backpack,” she said, deciding to tackle the issue head-on. “I’m not going down without a fight.”

Elphaba snorted. “Should have pegged you for a posturing idiot,” she said. “You can’t even stand up.”

“I’m District One,” Glinda said. “We always have a reserve of strength. But I’d prefer not to fight you, anyway. Why don’t you just be on your way and you don’t have to get hurt?”

“ _I_ don’t have to get hurt?” Elphaba laughed shortly. “Wow, is there really _nothing_ that can break down that blissful, vapid fantasy world of yours?”

Glinda didn’t reply to that, and after a moment, Elphaba’s sarcastic smile faded and she leaned her head to one side. 

“What happened, anyway? I thought your kind always hunted in packs. Did you lose yours?”

Glinda grimaced. Just the use of the word “packs” brought back the panic of her run through the woods. 

Everything had gone wrong so fast. 

“Well,” she said, trying to bring back her voice to the bubbly tone she’d used in interviews, “actually, they’re the ones who stuck a pin in me. I don’t know, it was all very sudden. But they thought I was too popular, apparently.”

She made herself pout. Come on, if there was ever a moment worthy of sponsorship, this had to be it. She didn’t expect that a parachute could be sent to her now, when Elphaba would be able to easily intercept it, but surely they could make an exception. Bring her a crossbow on a little trolley or something.

Elphaba was staring at her, one hand fidgeting with the strap of her backpack. Then, startlingly, she started to laugh. 

It wasn’t the sarcastic snort Glinda had sometimes heard before. This time, Elphaba seemed genuinely amused. 

“Hoist by your own petard?” she said finally. “I’m sorry to hear that strategy backfired on you, but you have to admit it is kind of poetic.”

Glinda glared at her. “I don’t know what you mean?” she said, trying to bring as much bewilderment as possible into it without coming across as a total idiot. 

“Sure,” Elphaba said, grinning. “Well, now I almost feel sorry for you. Have the cave. I should hunt tonight anyway.”

“Oh, in that case, the rest of the alliance is probably over in that direction,” Glinda said sweetly, nodding. “Just mentioning.”

Elphaba gave her a disgusted look. “Hunt for _food_ ,” she said. “Honestly, do you guys just _forget_ the other tributes are people or what?”

No, you never forget, Glinda thought, but aloud only said, “We know our place in these games.”

Elphaba stared at her, strangely, and for a moment, Glinda worried that the cynicism in that last statement might have been a little too obvious. 

In the end, however, Elphaba only rolled her eyes and sighed. 

“Ugh,” she said, shrugged her backpack into a better position, and left. 

Glinda listened to her footsteps recede, then lay back, clenching her teeth. Elphaba had been right, of course. There was no way she could win a fight now. At most and with a burst of adrenaline, she could perhaps manage to push herself up to a sitting position, but even that would be excruciatingly painful. 

All she could hope for at this point was for the sponsors to save her. She’d built her persona for just this eventuality. 

She just had to hope she’d done enough.

* * *

Glinda woke with a start. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep again—as exposed as she was, with Elphaba knowing her exact location, she really couldn’t afford to be even more vulnerable. Still, her body obviously had a mind of its own. 

She tested her limbs. Everything moved as it ought to, but when she tried to sit up, her entire body screamed in protest.

She looked out of the cave mouth, trying to gauge the time of day. As she did so, she saw something floating towards her. It was a small white parachute—a sponsor gift. 

Frantically, Glinda looked around, trying to see if she had a stick or something to reach it. She needn’t have bothered, though. The parachute sailed straight towards her and landed neatly, just within her reach. When she opened the little container that had come with it, she almost cried. There was a salve inside, smelling strongly of antiseptic and something more like morphling. It was medicine. 

“Thank you,” she said softly, holding the container gently wrapped in both hands. “Thank you so much.”

Carefully, she unwrapped her clumsy bandages from her arm. The slashes from Pfannee’s knife looked even uglier than when she first received them—a dark reddening of the skin spreading out from the edges of each wound. Glinda smeared some of the salve on each slash carefully, wincing at the burning sensation this brought, then rewrapped her arm again. 

The stomach wound was a lot harder. Moving too much caused her to feel like her entire insides were spilling out of her, and she had to work in tiny increments, dabbing salve gently into her wound and then merely draping the remains of the bandage over herself and zipping her jacket back up over it. She wouldn’t be moving anyway, and maybe the salve would give her the chance to heal if she just stayed still. 

And if Elphaba didn’t come back armed with a weapon or some allies. 

As she thought about Elphaba, a cannon shattered the silence suddenly. Glinda jerked in shock, then clenched her jaw, swearing under her breath. The movement had caused what felt like every nerve in her body to explode in agony. 

OK, she thought, once the blinding pain had subsided somewhat. It was time to take stock. She’d received a sponsor gift—that meant she wasn’t likely to receive another one anytime soon. She’d have to survive with only the knife for a weapon for now. Still, the only one who knew where she was was Elphaba, and she hadn’t seemed too keen on wetwork. 

Also, that cannon might have been for Elphaba. In that case, Glinda had nothing to do now but heal—and hopefully not thirst to death in the meantime. 

Just in case Elphaba was coming back, though, she tucked the container of healing salve under her jacket, hiding it from sight. No sense in letting on about any advantage she’d been given. 

The rest of the morning passed by in a blur, with Glinda hovering in and out of feverish sleep. Some time after noon, it started raining. It was a gentle drizzle at first, and then as it became heavier, Glinda heard what could only be footsteps outside the cave. She tensed up. 

Elphaba ducked into the cave, holding her backpack up over her head and carrying two rabbits in one hand. She looked startled to see Glinda staring back at her, stopping short and huffing out a sarcastic, short laugh. 

“Not what you expected?” Glinda said, with what she hoped was a suitably ironic smile. 

“Heard a cannon. Thought you might have croaked.” Elphaba gave her a look. “No such luck, I see.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

Elphaba shrugged. “Well, nothing to be done. I’m not going out there again; hate getting wet. You’re going to have to share the space.”

She sat down, sighing and cracking her neck first one way, then the other. Laying the rabbits to one side, she patted her clothes distractedly and then took out a knife from underneath her jacket. 

“You have a weapon!” Glinda said, realising that it came out as an accusation. 

“I got lucky,” Elphaba said calmly. 

“Then why haven’t you _killed_ me yet?”

“Thought you said District One tributes always have an extra reserve of strength?” Elphaba said, raising her eyebrows. She turned her attention back to the rabbits, slicing carefully across the back of one. “This is efficient for dressing game, but I don’t know how I’d go about killing someone with it. I was better at the bow and arrow during training. I’d have to get close to you to kill you, and you gave a good show of being awkward at wrestling during training, but I’m pretty sure that behind that facade you know how to snap my neck without even trying hard. So I think I’ll stay over here and wait for you to die on your own, thanks.”

“And what if I don’t die?” Glinda tried to smile, still showing courage and whatnot, but she was pretty sure it didn’t come out as adorable as intended. 

“We’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess,” Elphaba said, smiling ironically. 

For a while, Glinda just listened to the rain outside the cave, watching Elphaba’s hands work. 

“You probably shouldn’t say stuff like that,” she said at last, not entirely sure why she was doing it. “Don’t give away weaknesses. You never know who’s listening.”

Elphaba looked up at her. Of course, no tributes were close enough to hear them, or they would have been attacked already. But Elphaba was clever. Clever enough not to acknowledge that Glinda had just warned her about the Gamemakers, too. 

“You’re right,” she said. “You never know.”

She finished with the rabbits, hung them from a small outcrop in the cave wall, and then started to build a fire. 

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” Glinda asked. 

“Are you going to continue second-guessing every choice I make?” Elphaba said calmly. 

“I don’t know; are you going to continue making choices that might get us both found and killed by other tributes?”

“Well, at least you’d be out of my hair, so don’t tempt me too much.” Elphaba sat back, scrutinising the work, then picked up a couple of rocks and started striking them together to make sparks. “It’s raining, nitwit. No one will see the smoke through that. You’ll be fine. I mean, apart from the massive injuries.”

Glinda winced. She really was pathetic right now. Being lectured by a District Five tribute on woodcraft—honestly, was there even any woodland in Five? 

She lay still, watching Elphaba work the fire and start roasting the rabbits. Without any seasoning, they couldn’t really be any good, but Glinda’s stomach still growled from hunger as the smell of crisping fat spread through the cave. 

Elphaba took the rabbits off the flames, then broke the leg off one and tossed it towards Glinda. 

“I don’t think you should eat too much in one go,” she said. “But you could probably eat something, at least.”

“You’re feeding me now?” Glinda hesitated, not sure if she should reach for the leg or not. She’d watched Elphaba prepare everything, but with a deft enough hand, poison could be added at any time. A tribute like Elphaba, not wanting to get into a physical fight, would probably resort to poisoning rather than any open attack. 

“Well, I have an idea.” Elphaba glanced pointedly at the leg, then as Glinda made no move towards it, sighed and bit into her own share of the rabbit. “I need to sleep. And I used to be sure about how safe this cave was, but seeing as you got here, that means more of your murderous friends might find us, too. And the thing is, you can’t kill me in the state you’re in. You can still make noise, though—in fact, the hard part seems to be stopping you. So my idea is, you’re on watch while I sleep. If anyone comes, you can warn me.”

“And why would I do that?” Glinda asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“Well, if anyone comes here and kills me, do you really think they’ll pat you on the cheek and be on their merry way? If you help me, I’ll make sure neither of us gets killed. In other words, you’re the warning system; I’m the muscle.”

Glinda had to laugh at that. Elphaba wasn’t one of the weakest tributes in these Games, and she certainly had a wiry sort of frame, but Glinda would never have referred to her as “the muscle”. 

Still, she had a point. And if she wanted to have her warning system in place, that meant she’d have to keep feeding and protecting Glinda. Maybe for long enough that Glinda might actually have a chance of healing. 

“Well then,” she said, smiling, and reached out for the rabbit’s leg. “I guess we’re room mates.”


	3. Because I Knew You

**ACT THREE**

Their new partnership settled quickly into a kind of routine. For the first two days, Glinda kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, somehow—but Elphaba kept to their agreement, bringing her food and water and even a blanket. At night, Glinda watched while Elphaba slept, and during the day she slept fitfully, always aware that someone other than Elphaba might come upon their cave and find her. Still, Elphaba obviously had some skill in hiding her tracks, because no one ever came.

The days passed uniformly, the only thing giving them any structure being the Hunger Games anthem broadcast together with the faces of the day’s dead every night. These showed that someone out there was still playing the game—two more kids had made their appearance in the sky since Glinda and Elphaba had made their deal. 

Glinda was uncomfortably aware of the time passing. They were halfway through the second week, and soon, something would have to happen. She wouldn’t be allowed to just slowly heal for ever. But it was treacherously pleasant, spending her nights on watch, her days in recuperation and her evenings in increasingly fun conversation with Elphaba. 

“Honey, I’m home,” Elphaba would quip now as she returned from a day’s foraging, and Glinda would laugh. 

“Did you bring me anything nice?” 

“I expected you to have dinner ready,” Elphaba would reply, with exaggerated disappointment. “You are the worst room mate.”

Glinda hadn’t expected that to happen. There had been banter and jokes in her alliance, but that had always been for the cameras. It didn’t feel like that with Elphaba, and it felt surprising and friendly and good. 

It would have been hard, though, she supposed, to have an alliance like theirs with someone without some sort of companionship building. And, of course, Elphaba had always been funny. Glinda just hadn’t allowed herself to laugh with her before. As for herself, here in the Arena she could also allow her own glittery mask to slip a little more. 

It was getting difficult to think about the fact that the moment she was healed enough, this partnership was inevitably going to come to a bloody end.

* * *

The salve was working. The wounds on her arm were knitting together nicely, and even though it still hurt to even move, she no longer feared opening her stomach wound again. It had been five days since she had come to the cave, and she was getting well enough that she might even be able to make it on her own. 

Still, no sense in rushing it. 

She was testing her arm, flexing it slowly and carefully, when she heard Elphaba outside and stretched out into her usual still position again. 

“Still alive?” Elphaba asked with something close to a smile, coming into the cave and depositing a container of berries. 

“And kicking,” Glinda said. “Well, not kicking. I think I would probably break off in the middle if I tried kicking.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with your voice yet, and that’s all I really worry about,” Elphaba said, almost cheerfully. “Here, have some blackberries. All I could find today.”

They ate in silence for a while. 

“I missed the anthem last night,” Glinda said after a while. “Who was it? That cannon shot we heard yesterday?”

“The girl from District Eight. Lina, I think.”

“One of the younger ones?” 

“Right. I think she was fourteen. Like Dillamond.”

Glinda looked up sharply. Elphaba was staring into the distance. 

“I’m sorry,” Glinda said, the words falling out before she could stop them. “He, uh, he died early in the Games, right? Day three or four.”

“He was shot,” Elphaba said. “I saw him die.”

There was a long pause. 

“I’m sorry,” Glinda repeated like an idiot, but she couldn't think of anything else to say that wasn’t a lie. 

Elphaba cleared her throat, rubbing a hand across her face quickly. “I wish I could have buried him.”

Glinda sighed. “I know what you mean.” She’d thought a lot about the bodies of the dead tributes, left alone in the Arena for ever. “It makes it more horrible somehow, having to leave him just lying there in that clearing. If at least they could remove the bodies from the Arena somehow...” She realised that Elphaba was staring at her. “What?”

“You know where Dillamond died,” Elphaba said. Her expression shifted. “You were there.”

Glinda silently cursed herself. “Oh, yes, well, I passed by that—” 

“No, you were _there _,” Elphaba insisted. “When he died. I _thought___ someone was there, but I figured it was one of the other outliers. Someone who wouldn’t dare go up against me. But it was you.” She was giving Glinda a curious look, searching. “Why didn’t you attack me then? It was before you were kicked out of your alliance.”

Glinda hesitated. This conversation hadn’t gone the way she was expecting. And with Elphaba, it somehow seemed best to just tell the truth. 

“I couldn’t,” she said. “You were mourning.”

Elphaba was looking at her closely, her entire body still and tense. Finally, she sighed. 

“Every time I think I have you figured out,” she said, and her expression, in the moment before she turned away, was oddly soft.

* * *

That night, Glinda was on watch, listening to Elphaba’s slow breaths and staring out into the night. This wasn’t going to work much longer, she thought. She’d have to go. 

She didn’t want to, though. It would be lonely and cold and frightening to be alone. She’d gotten used to Elphaba’s presence, and she found herself looking forward to Elphaba’s return at night not only because of the safety it offered, but the companionship. She was loath to let it go—even though she knew she’d have to. Sooner or later, she’d have to.

The night was warm and soft, quiet around her. She yawned, then blinked her eyes rapidly. She needed to stay sharp. 

She could leave now, immediately, she continued her train of thought. Go quickly while she had the courage. But that would leave Elphaba vulnerable, without protection in the middle of the night. No, it would be better to wait until Elphaba went on one of her foraging parties and then leave the cave during the day. She’d— 

A loose stone clacked suddenly and sharp in the quiet air. Glinda tensed up, staring out around her. Probably just the wind, but… 

By the other side of the cave, a shape loomed up over Elphaba. 

Glinda was up before she even had time to realise what she was doing, rolling up from her usual prone position onto hands and knees and then exploding forwards, launching herself across Elphaba’s sleeping form and straight at the shape beyond. 

“Elphie!” she screamed, as she collided hard with the attacker. “Elphie, wake up!”

As Elphaba woke with a startled scream and Glinda landed on top of the intruder, grappling for her knife with the blood thumping loud and hard in her ears, she realised who it was. Shenshen looked back up at her, her eyes wide. 

Glinda tried to push her left arm down against Shenshen’s throat, but Shenshen was faster, locking Glinda’s arm in hers and shoving her other hand up hard into Glinda’s face. Pain exploded outwards from Glinda’s nose, and she tasted blood, her vision darkening. As she reeled, for the moment stunned, Shenshen managed to grab her collar and twist one arm up into a choking hold. 

Glinda clawed at her, trying to force her arm away. Her knife had dropped from her fingers, and she didn’t know where it was now. She could feel herself go fuzzy, her throat aching and tight with the lack of air. Shenshen had always been the best at this kind of unarmed combat; her arms thin but incredibly strong, her movements quick and efficient. 

Elphaba knocked into the both of them, then, tearing Shenshen away, and Glinda drew a deep, relieved breath. As Shenshen turned to punch Elphaba across the face, Glinda ran her hands frantically over the ground around her and came up with the knife. 

It was a moment’s work to shove it up under Shenshen’s chin. 

The cannon boomed, but Glinda could hardly hear it over the roaring in her ears. There were black spots dancing in front of her eyes, her throat feeling oddly thick, and she turned away from Shenshen’s lifeless body to throw up against the cave wall. 

Behind her, Elphaba drew in breath in a choked sob. Glinda turned to look at her, and found her staring down at Shenshen, her hands over her mouth. She looked up at Glinda. 

“You—” Elphaba swallowed hard, running a shaking hand over her face to push her hair back. “You’re healed.”

Glinda nodded shortly, then sank to her knees and started pushing their assorted supplies into Elphaba’s bag with jerky movements. “We have to leave,” she said. “The alliance must have realised I’m still alive and started combing the area to look for me. The others could already be on their way.”

“The others?”

“The rest of my old alliance. My _pack_ , if you will. If Shenshen was here, the rest can’t be too far away.”

“Oh…” Elphaba blinked, looking stunned, but she rubbed her hand over her eyes and stood up. “Right.” She paused. “You saved me.”

Glinda stepped to the cave opening, looking out over the landscape below. She hadn’t had much chance to explore the surroundings before, but she saw now that it was a pretty straightforward climb down to more level ground. Good. 

She closed her eyes and breathed deep for a moment, then shrugged. “That was the deal, I think,” she said with an attempt at cheerfulness, her back still to Elphaba. 

Elphaba let out a short, unhappy laugh. “Not quite,” she said. “But thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Glinda said. “Come on, we have to go.”

She started down the side of the hill, trying to figure out just exactly what she was supposed to do now.

* * *

They’d been walking for about half an hour when Elphaba drew in breath and said, “Stop.”

“We need to keep moving—” Glinda argued, but Elphaba put one hand on her arm. The touch was soothing, somehow, and Glinda found herself wishing that they could just sit down right then and there, hold on to each other and pretend the rest of the Arena didn’t exist. 

She really had to pull herself together. 

“I have traps here,” Elphaba said. “We’ll need to keep our strength up; you especially. Just wait here a second.”

She disappeared into a grove of trees, and Glinda stood looking around herself, fretting quietly and straining her ears for any sudden sounds. She tried to imagine how the rest of the alliance would be working now. It was strange for Shenshen to be out on her own. They ought to be hunting in pairs, for safety if nothing else. So either they’d spread out in a close area to find Glinda, in which case Pfannee, Avaric and the rest might be right behind them, or—

Or Shenshen was no longer part of the alliance. It was a possible option, and an interesting one. 

Still. Best to play it safe, and assume the rest of the alliance was on their heels. 

Elphaba reappeared, a sad bundle of limp furry shapes in one hand, and they set off again. 

“So,” Elphaba said eventually. “Elphie?”

Glinda laughed shortly. “We’re quite possibly being chased by a group of this Arena’s best fighters and you’re taking issue with a nickname?”

“Just not sure it’s quite me.”

“Well, it’s faster to scream than Elphaba.”

“Well, guess I’d better get used to it, then,” Elphaba said wryly, and Glinda found herself grinning back at her. 

When they finally stopped, the sky behind them was starting to lighten with the dawn. They’d been walking non stop for almost five hours. 

The fear of the alliance hunting them had faded enough that they dared risk a fire, and Elphaba set about skinning and preparing the game from her traps. 

“It’s your choice between squirrel or mink,” she said. 

“Oh, a gourmand meal,” Glinda said. She realised quickly that she was being too ironic, and smiled. “Mink, that’s the one with the pretty fur! I want that one.” 

Elphie gave her a look, but thankfully didn't push further. “Your loss,” she settled on simply. 

The mink was, indeed, terrible, but Glinda had made it through worse meals during her training. And at this stage in the game, they were lucky to have anything to eat at all. 

“It's a shame, having to let go of that cave,” she said. “It was a really good spot. But I think we need to keep putting distance between ourselves and the alliance for now.” 

“There may be other hiding spots,” Elphaba said. “I don't think I’m such a good trekker that I found the only one.” 

“You never know,” Glinda said, smiling. “You may just be very lucky.” 

“Lucky, yes,” Elphaba said, rolling her eyes. “That’s the word I always associate with myself. I feel I’ve lived a charmed life.” She made a considering face. “Although I suppose I did survive that one plant explosion we had when I was nine, where everyone said I ought to have died. Didn’t really consider it all that lucky at the time. You know, what with all the death and mayhem.” 

She was silent for a moment, swallowing, then said, quieter, “You could have let her kill me.”

Glinda hesitated. Elphie was right, of course. It’s what she ought to have done. But— 

“I couldn’t,” she said. And then, when Elphaba looked back at her, she smiled, trying desperately to salvage the remaining parts of her persona. “I mean, not while we had a deal and everything. That would just have been rude.” 

Elphaba stared at her for one long moment during which Glinda felt all too revealed, then snorted. 

“So are we an alliance now, then?” she said wryly. “Should I start calling you my fearless leader?”

“Shut up and eat your squirrel.”

* * *

They kept trekking during the next day, moving steadily away from the cave in the direction Glinda thought might possibly be west. It was difficult with these man-made arenas—with the Gamemakers controlling everything from the weather to the beasts inhabiting the woods, you couldn’t take anything for granted. 

Elphaba was walking ahead, and as they emerged from the woods onto a small ridge, with fields and more forest stretching out below, she threw out an arm suddenly and caught Glinda hard in her chest. 

“Ow!” Glinda exclaimed. “Elphie, what—” 

“Shh!” Elphaba hissed, spinning around and clamping a hand over her mouth. Glinda froze, staring around them for whatever threat this must be now. 

There was a tree a little way below them. Glinda looked closer and saw a group of monkeys nestled high in the branches. As she watched, one of them stood up, balancing precariously, and unfolded great grey wings. It leapt into the air, and the others soon followed, flying down towards the plain below. 

Elphaba relaxed. “They’re the ones who got Edis,” she said quietly, removing her hand from Glinda’s mouth. “The boy from my district. I saw them carry him off on day three.”

“I was just thinking I hadn’t seen a lot of mutts in this Arena,” Glinda said, shivering. “They look horrible.”

“They’re not that bad,” Elphaba protested. “Just unusual. It only looks weird to you because you’re not used to seeing monkeys and wings mixed together. But unusual doesn’t have to mean evil.”

Well, that was transparent segue. Glinda was about to point out that not everything was a tacit censure of Elphaba’s green skin, but a piercing scream stopped her before she could. They both looked down and saw the monkeys gather to sweep down towards one spot, only to rise moments later carrying a girl. They flew off towards a different part of the forest and were soon lost from sight. 

“One of yours?” Elphaba asked. Glinda shook her head. 

“Nine, I think.”

They waited for the cannon. 

“Did they take their time with Edis, too?” Glinda asked eventually. 

“No, that was quick. But then they just sort of swept down on him. Maybe she got loose?”

“You never know,” Glinda said, shrugging. She remembered the Nine girl from Training Week—Dorothy, she thought. There had been something powerful hidden under the sweet farm girl surface, true enough. “All right, let’s backtrack for a bit so we move away from their hunting ground.”

* * *

There was indeed something strange about the Arena, Glinda thought the following day. It seemed to curve in on itself and twist around, leading them in strange directions. She was certain they’d been moving steadily away from their cave and, by extension, the alliance—but as the day began to fade into evening, she started to recognise her surroundings. 

“The Arena turns somehow, I think,” Elphaba said behind her. “I don’t know how they do it. But unless you have a known path, it’s strangely easy to get lost. I only ever managed to find my way back to our cave if I kept to this one path lined with goldenrod.”

“But this is where the Cornucopia is,” Glinda said. “We’re back. This shouldn’t be possible.”

“Neither should monkeys with wings, I imagine,” Elphaba said, then added softly, “Poor things.”

Glinda rolled her eyes. Elphaba really had a bleeding heart sometimes. 

“Anyway,” she said, “this is where the alliance had its base. Let’s tread carefully.”

They crept slowly forwards, Glinda walking ahead and looking around for any sign of the other members of the alliance. The forest was quiet around them, but that didn’t have to mean anything—Avaric was just as trained in woodcraft as her. 

As they neared the Cornucopia, however, they found it empty and still. 

“They’re not here,” Elphaba said, the relief evident. 

“Not right now. But I think they still have this as base. The campfire is still fresh.”

“You think they’re out hunting?”

“Probably.” Glinda looked around, searching the area for traps. But it seemed Avaric and the rest felt safe and secluded enough—the Cornucopia looked clean; ripe for the taking. “Let’s get what we can and get out of here. Find a path with goldenrod or whatever you said to lead us safely away from here.”

“I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a general rule,” Elphaba said, smiling at her. 

As they rifled quickly through the supplies of the Cornucopia, grabbing food and water bottles and an extra bag, Glinda found that she was battling with herself over what she ought do next. Or rather—she knew what she _ought_ to do. She was unsure whether she wanted to, and especially in front of Elphaba. 

“What are you thinking about?” Elphaba asked, and Glinda decided to just come out with it. 

“The mines,” she said. 

There was a moment when she feared seeing Elphie’s face crumble in disgust, like it had done previously when faced with the ugliness of the Games. But Elphaba only swallowed and nodded, looking around herself. 

“Some kind of trap?” she said. “I may have some ideas.”

In the end, they settled for simply stretching a trip wire between the mines, then left quickly with their stolen supplies. 

That afternoon, as they were settling down to a more substantial meal than they’d had for a while, they heard a distant explosion followed by a cannon shot. Elphaba gasped, looking pained, and gripped instinctively for Glinda’s hand. They sat in silence for several minutes, holding hands tightly, feeling like accomplices in a crime. 

Avaric showed up in the sky that night. Glinda sat for a long time just staring up at the stars, hugging her knees tightly—feeling strangely untethered from home all of a sudden.

* * *

Two days later, they ran across Fiyero. 

Elphaba had been walking ahead, out of Glinda’s sight, when Glinda heard her yelp in sudden surprise. She ran up quickly, pulling her knife out and getting ready to strike, and found Fiyero backing away from Elphaba with his hands up non-confrontationally. 

“I’m unarmed, I’m safe! I’ll leave!”

“He just startled me,” Elphaba said. She’d backed away, though, her hand straying to where Glinda knew that she kept her own knife.

“Where’s the rest of them?” Glinda asked tightly, settling her stance. “Are they close?”

“I don’t know! I left the alliance when you did!”

“Oh, really.”

“I think he’s telling the truth, actually,” Elphaba said. Fiyero threw her a somewhat shaky smile. 

“I always tell the truth.”

“No one believes that for a moment, Fiyero,” Glinda said, but she felt herself relax. Fiyero did give the impression that he’d been living rough for the last week or so. “All right, so what happened to you, then?”

Elphaba’s stance loosened, too. “If we’re doing story time, I’m going to get some food ready for us in the meantime,” she said. “We’re due for a stop anyway.”

Fiyero took his hands down, grinning at Glinda. 

“I can contribute some bread?”

At that, Glinda smiled despite herself. “Maybe it was lucky running into you after all.”

Over a bite of dried fruit, bread and a kind of chickpea paste that was part of their spoils from the Cornucopia, Fiyero told them about how he’d been making it on his own for the past two weeks. He’d mainly slept in trees, it appeared, surviving on roots and berries. 

“I was never much of a hunter, unfortunately,” he said. “But I have a good knowledge of plant life, at least.”

“And why didn’t you stay with the alliance?” Glinda asked. 

Fiyero laughed shortly. “Oh, I got out of there quick after they made their move on you. I was on my way back after filling the water bottles when I overheard them talking about chasing you over a cliff. I figured then that I’d be next on the chopping block and didn’t want to take my chances, so I made off with all their water and have been going it alone since then.” He shrugged. “I had a feeling that they might believe me too loyal to you, what with the whole romancing thing. Guess that’s why they chose to stage their little coup while I was away from camp. I don’t think they trusted me to turn on you.”

Glinda looked at him, calculating. “But you would have, though, right?” she asked eventually. 

He grinned at her. “Probably. Can you blame me?”

“Guess not.” She rolled her eyes. Fiyero really was shameless. 

“Figure it’s every man for himself in here,” Fiyero continued. He glanced at Elphaba, who was packing their bags again. “Or so I thought. But perhaps some alliances are more compelling than others.”

Glinda felt suddenly angry. Fiyero had always seemed to have a special interest in Elphaba, back in the Capitol. If he thought he was just going to waltz in here and break up the trust she and Elphie had built… 

“Anyway,” Fiyero went on, “speaking of which, there’s a few outliers who have formed an alliance of their own. The boys from Six, Seven and Nine, at least. They got the boy from Four, and the girl from Three. They might have been the ones who did for Shenshen, too.”

Glinda went cold. Thankfully, she was saved from having to say anything as Elphaba looked up at that, frowning. “They’re killing people? Kids?”

“That’s the name of the game, green girl,” Fiyero said, flashing her one of his prettiest smiles. “We aren’t here for a beauty contest. Shame. You and I could have one hell of a final showdown, then, Glinda.” 

“And what about in this game?” Glinda asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“Oh, I’m staying away from you.” Fiyero turned his smile back to her. “I don’t want to end up fighting you in the end. Don’t think I didn’t notice you going easy on me during training week.”

Glinda smiled sweetly at him. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said. 

“Sure. Anyway, I’ll be off. I have traps to check and I’m not really into the whole alliance thing any more. Good luck to you two, though. And stay away from open fields. That boy alliance seems to have made those their hunting ground.”

“You too,” Glinda said. “Be careful.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Fiyero said, firing off another brilliant smile and then standing up. “See you around, maybe—although hopefully not.” 

He waved cheerfully at them, then walked away. Elphaba frowned after him. 

“I never really got that guy,” she said. “He’s not as brainless as he seems, is he?”

“Far from it, I think,” Glinda said. “Come on, he’s right. We’re too close to that field. If the boy alliance is scouring them for easy marks, I don’t want to end up on their list.”

* * *

Over the next few days, Pfannee and Lias both showed up in the sky at night. Glinda didn’t know if they’d been close to the blast at the Cornucopia as well and had succumbed to injuries, or if they’d fallen to the boy alliance. In any case, it was clear that she and Elphaba now had a new primary contender. The list of remaining tributes was getting rather short, but although she knew it would probably be wise to break off on her own at this point, she found herself reluctant to give up her alliance with Elphaba. Of course, with the boy alliance still out there, it made sense to go for strength in numbers for a while yet. 

And Glinda could just keep telling herself that, she thought, looking at Elphaba smiling back at her from further along the track.

* * *

By Glinda’s count, they were halfway into the third week of the Games when they found the waterfall. 

At this point of the Games, they usually went one of two ways: they either came to a bloody conclusion within a few days, or the Games dragged out long past a month, with most tributes increasingly starved and crazed. Glinda wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping for. 

But they had just found a safe space, at least. They’d been heading for higher ground when they came out onto a plateau, where a stream trickled calmly across the ground only to throw itself down a glittering waterfall into a churning cauldron of water a long way below. 

“Where do you think that comes out?” Elphaba asked, shading her eyes to look out over the forest. “I can’t see any outlet. The water just falls into that one basin below; it doesn’t run out anywhere.”

“There must be some kind of underground stream,” Glinda suggested. “I wouldn’t go looking for it if I were you. It looks dangerous enough from up here; I don’t want to imagine trying to swim through that.”

Elphaba laughed at that. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I told you, I hate getting wet. Still, I like this place. Easily fortified. Maybe we can make our camp here?”

She’d adapted so fast to these ways of thinking, Glinda reflected. She really did absorb things quickly. 

“Sure,” she said simply. “Let’s make camp.”

They polished off the last of the dried goods stolen from the alliance camp that evening. Their stores were running low, which made this new permanent camp a thing of necessity—from this point onward, they’d have to rely on their traps again. 

“My sister would love this,” Elphaba said, holding up a container of dried fruit. “What did you say their name was?”

“Apricots.”

“Oh, right. I wish I could bring some to her.” Elphaba smiled. “She loves anything sweet.”

“What’s she like?” Glinda asked. “Your sister. Nessa, right? I mean, apart from the sweet tooth.”

Elphaba laughed. “She’s really sweet, herself. And so beautiful. Everyone adores her. She likes music, and would love to dance if she could, I think. She always loves watching other people dance. She can be really, _really_ stubborn when she sets her mind to something. If it weren't for her legs, I think everyone would expect her to become foreman in the factory like our father.” She smiled. “I imagine she still could be. She’s that driven. And she’s also very romantic. Actually, she has a bit of a victor’s crush on the boy from Six who won two years back. Boq.”

“The Metal Man?” Glinda said, without thinking. Elphaba gave her a look.

“Why would you call him that?”

Glinda winced. “I’m sorry. It’s—you know, the names stick. It’s what everyone calls him.”

“That’s what the Capitol does,” Elphaba muttered, lowering her voice. “Reduces us to nicknames, cardboard cutouts. It’s easier for them that way, I guess. Right, _Glinda the Good_?”

Glinda almost rolled her eyes back at her, but remembered at the last moment to smile prettily instead. It was getting harder every day to keep up her role around Elphaba, so full of cynicism and dry wit. 

“Anyway, yeah, him,” Elphaba continued thoughtfully. “I think it’s because of that—his prosthetics, the whole _Metal Man_ thing, I mean. Since she doesn’t have the use of her legs, either. I think she was happy to see someone like her. But it’s become—I don’t know, kind of fanatic. She makes us watch every Victor’s Special he’s on. It’s…” She stopped, scowling. “I guess I find it creepy, a bit. That boy up there on the screen, that’s not a real person. They’ve created this big illusion. All the victors are like that. I think sometimes that frightens me even more than being here—what would happen if I got out. What they would make me.”

“What do you think?” Glinda asked, because she’d wondered that same thing. Elphaba shrugged and smiled wryly. 

“The Cabbage Head,” she said. “Oh, no, wait, I just came up with the perfect name for our duo: the Princess and the Pea. I’d be the pea, of course.”

Glinda laughed. “You could be the Artichoke,” she suggested. 

“What was it Fiyero said? Oh yeah, Green Girl.”

“Little frog!”

“Snake. Witch.”

Glinda’s laughter died in her throat. Elphaba’s smile had faded away again, and she was staring moodily out across the landscape. 

“You know I wouldn’t make a popular victor,” she said quietly. “I’m not pretty, or funny. I’m just angry.”

“You can’t think like that,” Glinda said. “You can only think about getting out. Don’t get stuck that far ahead.”

“No, but—” Elphaba’s mouth twisted. “l realise I ought to have thought more about it, before. I get why you’re doing what you’re doing. It’s smart.” She scowled. “I wish I’d been that smart.”

Glinda looked at her. “Well,” she said eventually, “I wish I could be as honest as you.”

Elphaba looked back at her, and Glinda realised that without knowing it, she’d shifted closer. Elphaba’s eyes were a greenish-hazel, the hue shifting with the light and standing out beautifully against her green skin. 

Elphaba’s expression changed, still frowning but now in something more like confusion. 

“I—” she began. 

A cannon interrupted her, making them both jump. Elphaba looked back out over the landscape again, shading her eyes with her hand. 

“There,” she said, standing up and pointing. 

Glinda stood up, too. Together they looked down towards the fields that Fiyero had pointed out as controlled by the boy alliance. A group of birds had risen into the air, squawking and flapping. 

“Who do you think?” Elphaba asked. 

 

“It’s almost dark. We should be getting the anthem soon.”

They stood, waiting, moving closer together until their arms were almost touching. The sky darkened as the sun dipped the last way beyond the horizon, and soon, the anthem rang into life, the night sky lighting up again with the projection of the day’s dead. 

When the Capitol seal faded away, they both gasped, and Glinda gripped Elphaba’s arm tightly. 

The face in the sky above them was Fiyero’s.

* * *

“We need to do something about them.”

Glinda bent back a branch to get a better view towards the fields, then looked over at Elphaba. “You want to attack them?”

“They’re killing kids,” Elphie said flatly, staring through the foliage towards the boy alliance camp. As night turned into day and the pain of Fiyero’s death passed, she and Glinda had embarked on a careful scouting trip, trying to map the boy alliance hunting ground. 

Glinda swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat. “You know I’ve killed people, too,” she said—croaked. “ _Kids_.”

It looked like Elphie was about to argue, so Glinda just barrelled on. This needed to be said, and soon. 

“It was my group that killed your friend. Dillamond, I mean. The boy you made friends with, from District Ten. The one you taught how to get out of snares.” She felt like she was talking too much, too specific, but Dillamond had kept turning up in her mind as the Games progressed—his thin face pale as he stared up at Elphaba, life bleeding out of him in a sunny glade. 

Elphie opened her mouth, then hesitated. “Your group,” she said, after a moment. “Not you.”

“But it would have been me,” Glinda insisted, forcing the words out. “That was why I was there when he died. To kill him.” Her throat was increasingly tight and painful, but she made herself continue. “That’s what I was trained to do. They trained me to kill.” She swallowed, then managed to finish, “I’m not any different from those boys.”

She looked away, not wanting to see Elphie’s face. 

After a while, she felt Elphie’s hand on her shoulder. 

“They make us all something different in here,” she said. “But you’re not cruel.”

They were both silent, for a long time, and then Elphie leaned forward again. 

“But they are,” she said, nodding towards the boys in the field and, beyond them, the horrible spectre of a tribute’s body, displayed at the edge of their camp for birds to peck at like some sort of trophy. “We have to do something about them.”

* * *

Glinda crept towards the boy camp, keeping an eye out for anything strange or out of place. Her entire body felt on edge, her skin humming with nerves, but despite her frantic wariness, the sight of human figures shimmering into view out of the shadows of the forest made her heart jump with startled fright—her chest hurting with the ferocity of it. 

It was two of the boys from the other alliance, standing by the edge of their chosen safe area, the field they controlled together with the third member of their group. They were standing close beside each other, and as she crept nearer, Glinda suddenly realised that they were holding hands. Her stomach twisted painfully. 

But they had killed Fiyero, leaving him to rot. And given the chance, they would kill Elphie, too.

Standing up straight and breathing in short, hysterical gasps, Glinda stepped deliberately on a dry twig and then let a short, inadequately stifled scream escape her. She made sure that the boys had both turned and seen her before she ran. 

Somewhere away to her left, she heard a voice call out “Tibbett! Crope! Got one!” and knew that Elphaba had played her role as bait just as well. 

“Us too!” one of the boys behind Glinda yelled. He was closing on her. Glinda gasped for breath, putting on an extra burst of speed. 

She dodged through the trees, leading the boys on the path that she and Elphaba had prepared. They were fast, both of them, keeping up with her every step of the way. She almost worried that they’d catch up with her too soon, but then she reached her intended spot and skidded around an outcrop of rocks, avoiding the trapping pit she and Elphie had dug the day before with a narrow margin and then throwing herself forward and rolling away. 

Behind her, the two boys chasing her crashed through the pit’s covering—onto the sharpened sticks below. 

Glinda rolled herself into a tight ball, throwing her arms over her head and shutting out the noise until the screaming stopped and, mercifully, two cannons boomed. She felt sick, shaking too badly to stand. 

But there hadn’t been a third cannon. Elphaba, over on her path, might need her help. Swallowing down the bile, Glinda forced herself to stand up again. 

She avoided the trapping pit, taking the long way around so as to not have to look at it, then ran onwards towards her and Elphaba’s meeting place by the waterfall. She passed the other pit, the one that the third alliance boy had been meant to fall into, and found it empty. 

A cannon fired, then, and Glinda went cold. If the boy hadn’t died here, he might have caught up with Elphaba. 

She ran onwards and upwards, all previous sickness forgotten, her breath scraping in her throat. She pushed her way through bushes and trees, heedless of the branches and thorns scraping against her skin, and made it up onto the plateau to find a body, lying by the edge of the waterfall. 

“ _ELPHIE!_ ” 

The body stirred, and Elphaba raised her head to look back up at Glinda, a shattered expression on her face. Glinda was running to her side before she had time to think, falling to her knees beside Elphaba and checking her over to look for injuries. 

“Are you OK?” she asked, taking Elphaba’s hands in hers. “He didn’t hurt you? You’re OK?”

As the panic subsided, she could see that Elphaba was crying, her shoulders heaving with each sob. 

“He almost had me,” she whispered. “And then he must have slipped. He fell over the edge and he—he—it was horrible...”

She made a vague nod towards the waterfall, and Glinda pulled her closer, enveloping her in a hug. Elphaba’s entire body was shaking, and she buried her face in Glinda’s shoulder, muffling her sobs. 

They sat like that for what might have been ten minutes or sixty. Glinda held Elphaba tightly, took deep, calm breaths, and tried to keep both herself and Elphaba from falling apart.

* * *

As they finally broke apart, the sun had dipped towards the horizon, turning everything to shades of gold and amber. They looked at each other, and then out over the landscape below—the view far more beautiful than it had any right to be. 

“You know we have to split up now, right?” Glinda said quietly, eventually. She was still holding one of Elphaba’s hands in hers. Somehow, she hadn’t been able to make herself let go. 

Elphie laughed shortly. “We should have split up a long time ago.”

She raised their joined hands to her cheek. For a moment, Glinda thought she was about to lean in closer, but in the end, Elphaba just squeezed her hand slightly before finally letting go.

“I’m really glad I got to know you,” she said. 

Glinda swallowed. Her throat hurt. “Me too,” she managed. 

She sat like that, unable to move, as Elphie rose and moved to their camp, packing a satchel with a few of their remaining food supplies. 

“Wait,” she managed at last, as she saw Elphaba prepare to leave. “You should stay here. I’ll go.”

Elphaba looked at her, obviously torn. 

“You’re hurt. You need the safe space more than I.”

Glinda made herself smile. “This little thing?” she said, gesturing to her stomach. For the first time in a long while, she remembered the sponsors, and knew that she needed to be strong, and invincible. “I’ll manage; don’t you worry. Give me that bag, and I’ll be on my way.”

Elphaba still looked uncertain, but after a few moments’ pause, she came closer and held the bag out. 

“Be careful,” she said. 

Glinda took hold of the bag, but Elphie didn’t let it go, staring back at her with a strange mix of emotions. “Should we have dinner first?” she said finally. “It’s unnecessary for you to go off on an empty stomach.”

Part of Glinda wanted to point out that they were just prolonging the inevitable. Most of her overruled that thought, though. 

She just didn’t want to leave. 

“Sure,” she said. “That sounds good. But I’ll just go and—I just need a moment first.”

She cleared her throat, embarrassed, making sure both Elphie and the cameras picked up on what she meant. 

“Sure,” Elphie said, and it almost looked like she was hiding a smile. “I’ll get the food ready in the meantime.”

Glinda nodded shortly and made off down the path leading up to their plateau, ducking into the bushes. The Gamemakers were usually pretty squeamish about televising people peeing, so it was a chance for some privacy. She couldn’t start crying outright, but she could lean her head into her arms for a few minutes, breathing long careful breaths and swallowing down her tears. 

She had to get a hold of herself. 

She sat there for what was probably a lot longer than could be motivated, until her heart had stopped hammering in her chest and she felt her breathing evening out. Giving herself a mental shake, she smoothed the hair out of her face and stood up. The final combatant was out there. For now, that was all she had to focus on. 

As for what would come after that—well, she had put herself in this position. She only had herself to blame. 

She was on her way back, climbing carefully back up the slope towards their hide-out, when she heard it. Up ahead, there was a sudden scream, piercing the soft silence of the woods violently and then trailing off. 

Glinda felt her pulse jump. She ran the last way up to the plateau, knowing that whichever of the two possible scenarios awaited her, it would mean the end of everything. 

There she was—Dorothy from District Nine, her innocent farm girl braids still intact even three weeks into the Games. She was standing at the edge of the plateau, staring down into the churning cauldron of water down below, breathing heavily as her fists opened and closed. 

She looked up, shock written all over her face as she became aware of Glinda standing only a few feet away, and Glinda had a sudden realisation of how small she looked. She tried to remember how old the girl was. 

For a few moments, they just stared at each other. There was no other noise, and Glinda found herself starting to hope vainly. 

It took the cannon finally firing for them to both snap out of their joint daze. Dorothy scrambled backwards, shrugging out of the backpack she was wearing, and Glinda charged. 

Everything else had faded away. Vaguely, she was aware of pain in her stomach and knew with a strange sort of distance that her wound might have opened up again, but it all seemed so petty. The cannon shot echoed in her ears, drowning out everything else around her, but she could see that Dorothy was screaming as she lobbed her backpack at Glinda’s head, missing her by inches. 

As Glinda reached her, Dorothy had managed to unsheath a knife, and she stabbed it towards Glinda’s face. Glinda moved on instinct, twisting and knocking Dorothy’s arm up and away, then continuing her turn to bring her elbow up into Dorothy’s face. Dorothy was just as fast in her panic, however, and she barely reeled before punching her free hand right into Glinda’s stomach wound. 

The pain made Glinda’s vision blacken, but she managed to grip Dorothy’s knife hand in hers, squeezing her wrist tight. Dorothy gasped and punched again, grinding her knuckles into Glinda’s stomach, and Glinda felt all the air leave her lungs as she fought to stay upright. 

But she had her hand around Dorothy’s, and Dorothy had a knife. With her last strength, Glinda dug her nails into Dorothy’s wrist and twisted, then as Dorothy’s fingers faltered, snatched the knife from her and stabbed desperately. 

There was a far too long moment when everything seemed frozen, the two of them still locked together. Then, just as Glinda felt her knees buckling, Dorothy finally fell backwards. 

Glinda let her go, staggering backwards in stupefied exhaustion, not yet daring to think that it was all over. The waterfall roared next to her, and Glinda closed her eyes, wishing that everything would just stop. 

At last the anthem started playing loudly, declaring her the victor, and all Glinda felt was loss.

* * *

Glinda looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting the lapel of her dress and tugging the one single sleeve down to make sure the scars on her left arm were completely covered. Behind her, Madam Morrible nodded approval.

“You look like a victor,” she said. 

Glinda smiled at her. She’d been practising her smiles in the mirror for two days at Madam’s insistence; she thought she had them almost entirely natural now. 

Madam Morrible adjusted her own dress, tweaking her considerable bum roll into a better position, then pursed her lips in consideration. 

"So,” she said, “we haven’t had a really proper chat about the interview before. I wanted to give you some time before we started talking strategy.”

Glinda almost laughed. She’d had eight days of intense rehabilitation before her doctors would even allow her to walk short distances. Her new stylist team had been visiting her daily and making shockingly snide remarks about how much they would need to touch her up to make her pretty again, and there had been increasingly feverish requests from Gamemaker Central to settle on an interview date. Through it all, Madam Morrible had been there to hiss instructions in Glinda’s ear about not looking too fragile but not too invincible, about never showing rancour or spite, about always speaking in generalities and leave space for selling scoops later, and of course always about “ _smiling_ , Glinda, do remember that you are the Capitol’s new darling”. 

But sure, it was nice of her to hold off the actual strategy talk until the last hour before go time. 

Madam Morrible cleared her throat, and suddenly Glinda knew what she was about to talk about. 

“Glinda, dear,” she said. “We do need to spin this Girl Five thing a bit.”

Glinda clenched her teeth together, then made herself relax. "Elphaba," she corrected quietly. Madam looked disgusted. 

"That, my dear, is not going to cut it.”

“Her name is Elphaba,” Glinda insisted.

“I’m quite aware,” Madam Morrible said icily. “But Glinda, you need to _think_ about this. This isn’t the time to _humanise_ the girl. If the Nine girl hadn't shown up, you would have had to kill _Elphaba_. You couldn't have done that to a friend, now could you? Not sweet little you.”

“Stop calling me sweet,” Glinda bit out, feeling the anger flare and welcoming it as a distraction from the hurt. “I’m not supposed to be a wilting flower, here.”

“No, but you’re not supposed to be manipulative, either,” Madam said shortly, then breathed in through her nose and folded her hands together. “This is what happened. The two of you were hugging after that last boy went over the fall, everything was sweet and lovely, you were true companions. And that’s when you noticed the knife.”

“She didn’t have a knife!”

“I know, it was _very_ well hidden,” Madam snapped. “You realised she was planning to betray you. The realisation hurt you—you were after all _almost_ regarding the girl as a friend—but you realised what you’d have to do. You were preparing yourself for it when you left her by the waterfall. In the end, Girl Nine just got there first.” She gave Glinda a hard stare. “That’s what _happened_ , Glinda.”

Glinda stared back at her, trying to maintain the fury, but found herself instead blinking back the tears that had been threatening constantly since her return to the Capitol. Everything here was a reminder, and she just wanted to go home and forget. She breathed in sharply. 

Madam Morrible’s expression did something unreadable, and she walked closer, fishing a lacy handkerchief out of her decolletage. 

“Come on, my dear,” she said, surprisingly softly, leaning in to dab at the corners of Glinda’s eyes. “Chin up. Don’t ruin that pretty make-up. You told me once that you had what it takes to do this, and I believed you. Don’t prove me wrong. I hate being wrong.”

Glinda swallowed, trying to force everything that was threatening to spill over back down underneath the surface, focusing on the way forward instead. She hated everything about it, but she knew that Madam was right. Madam knew how to work the cameras. She knew what ought to be said. 

“All right,” she managed at last. “I remember what happened.”

Madam sighed, her hand coming down to grip Glinda’s shoulder hard, in a strange combination of comfort and search for support. 

“Good, Glinda,” she said. “Good. She was always supposed to be the villain, after all.”

She turned them both back towards the mirror, and smiled at Glinda’s reflection, patting a stray lock of hair into place. 

“ _You're_ the hero of this story, my dear; remember that.”

* * *

“Ladies and gentlemen, _here she is_!” 

Augusta Winkley stretched her arms out to Glinda, giving her an enthusiastic hug that seemed to never end, holding on and squeezing with her hands slipping steadily lower over Glinda’s back. Glinda began to wonder if she was supposed to be doing something, her hands patting Augusta’s shoulders in an awkward little flutter as she tried to decipher exactly how this was supposed to play. Finally, Augusta gave her a final squeeze and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, then twirled her out to face the audience. 

“Isn’t she just a treasure?” she trilled, and the entire hall screamed their delight. Augusta let them cheer for a while, then took Glinda by the hand and led her over to the sofa set up in the middle of the stage. “Let’s cosy up together and talk about all that happened these Games. We had some real scares for you!” 

There was a brief flurry of images across the telescreens placed all over the stage, and the audience gasped and hissed at shots of the duel with Pfannee and the boy alliance chase. Glinda tried a brave smile, which seemed to find its mark, judging from the applause and occasional aww. 

“You’ve been such a trooper,” Augusta said, leaning in and putting a hand on Glinda’s knee, her mouth pouting in an exaggerated show of sympathy. “And later on, we’ll be talking _all_ about the battle with your alliance, your ingenious traps and that _riveting_ final showdown. But first, we have to talk about _you_! How are you feeling? What are you thinking? You look like a million bucks today—” her hand on Glinda’s knee squeezed a little tighter— “and I expect you’re feeling like it, too!” 

Glinda looked out over the audience. There were glaring spotlights in her face, but she could still make out the faces in the auditorium, waiting breathlessly for her to speak. 

She smiled out into the lights. 

"That's right," she said. "I couldn't be happier."


	4. Epilogue: And Just Look at You

**EPILOGUE**

Glinda paced her room nervously. It had been an endless series of unpleasant discoveries after her win—duties that were apparently a part of her life as victor and mentor that no one had warned her about and that made her feel sick and angry and helpless. Madam Morrible was no help, and other victors were equally trapped as her.

It had been a little less than a year since she stepped out of the Arena and into a new life, far different than she had imagined. Soon, she’d be mentoring two new tributes, and her breath came shorter every time she imagined looking into this year’s new Arena. It had been bad enough watching the reruns that popped up with increasing frequency as the summer drew closer, and having to sit through countless interviews where she was asked to tell the stories of her kills in sordid detail. 

And then, even more than that, there was the socialising. 

She glanced at the calendar on her desk, where Morrible had pencilled in “Date with Coriolanus Snow, 19:00 - late” for the day after tomorrow. By this point, Glinda knew what that code meant, and her skin crawled all over at the memory of the Junior Gamemaker who’d held on to her hand way back during her first training for the Hunger Games. He would have been looking forward to this “date” ever since she stepped into the Arena, she realised. 

Beside the calendar were vases of flowers and cards and boxes of jewellery, all sent by admirers after other euphemistically named social engagements. _Until next time! Your Augusta_ one card read, taped to a giant bunch of peonies, and without really thinking about what she was doing, Glinda picked up the vase and threw it towards her window. It bounced off a forcefield pathetically to smash against the floor, because of course every avenue of escape was blocked for her. Glinda breathed in deeply, trying to swallow down the scream that always waited below the surface these days. 

She almost wished, now, that she could have followed Elphie down that waterfall, instead of being stuck here in this glitzy, shallow, filthy Capitol life. 

She heard the door to her room open behind her and clenched her hands into fists. She was supposed to be left alone here. They were supposed to give her that much, at least. 

Furious, she spun around to snap at whoever it was to go away, and froze. For several moments she could only stare, and then slowly, she began to smile. 

“Oh,” she said. “You wicked thing.”

**THE END**


End file.
